I Could Be Nice (but don't test me)
by redhusk
Summary: Stiles is The Slayer; Deaton is his Watcher; Scott, Allison and Lydia are his own personal Scooby gang and Peter Hale is the Alpha who decides to go on a killing spree. Stiles is busy enough with vampires and demons and the occasional murderous insects, he does not have time for a vengeful werewolf. He might have time for the new broody hottie in town, though. Sterek, AU.
1. The Good Life

**AN: **I don't know what I'm doing and why I'm doing it, but I'm kind of enjoying it and hope you enjoy it too? To people, who are following my other story - don't worry. I'll update that next. I has time now. I feel MIGHTY. This might be the alcohol talking. /stumbles

**ALSO:** This is a crossover with the Buffy verse, yes but I didn't post it in the Xover section because no actual Buffy characters make an appearance. I've just put Beacon Hills on the Hellmouth, made Stiles the Slayer and improvised from there.

* * *

Part 1/5

**The Good Life**

* * *

Sometimes Stiles forgets how awesome his life actually is. Sure, his grades might be dropping due to an active night-life that really clashes with his study-time and yeah, okay, he nearly dies like every other Tuesday, and fine, yeah, there's the slight fact that he's still a virgin, has a non-existent romantic life because everything really revolves around his job, and what kind of a sixteen-year-old has a job destined for him and only him, anyway?

So getting away from the point. Good things about his life... Good things... Oh, yeah! His awesome friends, who care about him so much they hardly blinked when they found out about the Slayer business, who love him enough to fight beside him night after night, who never let him down when it comes to research and saving the world and who also get themselves kidnapped to be used as leverage against Stiles so often, he hardly even feels concerned for their welfare, just shows up, kills the baddie and enjoys the grateful hugs. So the last one isn't actually a _good_ thing, but it's a fact nonetheless.

There's Scott, his best friend since the first day he arrived here in Beacon Hills, which happened to be seven months ago, who welcomed him with open arms and the bond that was created between them will be there for _life_. There's no one else that he holds more dear than Scott (except his dad, but that's different - family), not gonna lie.

Then there's Allison, who he at first hesitated to bring into the group since she's cute and popular and seemed like out of their league and he figured she must be a spy sent by the jocks to get the inside scoop on the library gang. But she turned out to be Scott's on-and-off again girlfriend so of course he said okay in the end, what kind of a bro would he be if he hadn't?

And then there's Lydia. Angels weep when they see Lydia's face and so does Stiles. Inwardly. He gets beaten up by demons of hell by-weekly, he's not going to cry over a girl. That one time he did, so doesn't count because he was _ten_ and his crush had just called him _fart-face_. Yeah, of all the names to call him, the girl chose fart-face Stiles is a little sensitive about his face now, and he thinks he has every right to be. But Lydia, dear God, sweet-sweet Lydia. The brains, the beauty, the... not-so-friendly personality, but the _beauty_. Stiles hasn't fully given up on the dream of losing his virginity to her, but he's also realistic and figures it most likely isn't going to happen. Especially considering the little smiles Lydia tries to hide whenever that jerk, Jackson tries to ask her out again. So far she's turned down every invite but he can see that she's really just playing hard to get. And Jackson is totally hooked, the sucker.

But Lydia's best friends with Allison, who can't keep her mouth shut so now she knows and is in the gang, which is actually great, because she's the best researcher out of all of them and sometimes finds answers faster than Deaton.

Deaton of course is his Watcher, librarian extraordinaire and otherwise such a _zen_ person. Stiles figures if he didn't have Deaton in his life, he'd have died from a panic attack, because he's a freak-out-first-think-rationally-later kind of person and Deaton has a calming effect on everybody. He's the perfect librarian because all he needs to do is say a few words in that relaxed tone of his and you're nodding and trapped in this zone of tranquility so no matter how many people visit the library, it's always quiet and calm. Stiles really needed that in his life, because back in LA he had to deal with regular panic attacks and his dad just couldn't understand what was happening. In the end he and Stiles' therapist agreed - it must be the loss of his mother, the ADHD (and seriously who picked a kid with ADHD as a Slayer, _who_!? Stiles still hasn't gotten an answer to that one), the lack of friends and the stress of school. Not exactly wrong, but not right on the money either.

It was mostly the whole school body thinking him a freak, the vampires popping out of nowhere and scaring the shit out of him, because he wasn't _used_ to things like that back then and of course when one vampire disguised himself as a door-to-door salesman and his dad_ invited him in_... Fortunately, the man totally forgot to ask about the missing salesman, the suitcase he left behind and the ashes on the floor because that had been Stiles' biggest breakdown yet.

And yes, his dad. Another point to the awesome factor. His dad used to work for the police in LA but got offered a transfer to Beacon Hills, to become the Sheriff. At the time, both father and son had been happy to get away from the big city, from the pitying looks and the condolences, that were still coming even _four years_ after his mother's death. Now, of course the Sheriff is swamped with work because Beacon Hills has an oddly high death rate with a lot of cold cases, Stiles has found out he now lives on a _Hellmouth_, a magnet for all kinds of demons, occasionally some extra-strong demons with plans of fully opening the mouth and ending the world in their minds, so yeah, Stiles has his hands full too.

But the point is, unlike in LA, he's not alone anymore. He would still very much like to tell his dad, so he'd stop inviting strangers into their home so becomingly but Deaton said no to that idea. He was already against the Scooby gang knowing but that was totally out of Stiles' hands. What can you do, when your best friend's girlfriend is hot enough to get hit on by a vampire and when you lure the guy out and stake him, your best friend and his girlfriend just happen to tag along. Lydia of course took it in stride after Allison revealed everything because she's awesome like that, and Danny was totally an accident.

Oh yeah, _Danny_. Not exactly a plus anymore, considering their failed date because Stiles managed to get hassled by a whole _gang_ of vampires, armed with bats and knives, and really... they were dressed like a bicycle gang and Stiles enjoyed kicking their pretentious asses, only he failed to show up for their date as well as call and only actually _remembered_ Danny the next day at school. He figures slapping his forehead and saying, "Oh right, we had a date" was what finally set the guy off and now he hates Stiles. But when he got into trouble with a gay vampire Stiles was there to save the day so on occasion, he grudgingly helps them by hacking into all kinds of databases

So this is his life. It's a good life. Not the best, but still awesome. How many teenagers can say they faced a vampire and lived to tell the tale?

Judging by the death toll, not a lot.

* * *

So there's another death. Not a surprise. What is surprising is the state of the body left behind. Or, well, the _lack_ of half of it.

"Do you know of anything that has a habit of doing something like this?" He asks Deaton, ignoring the zen-master's greeting as he shoves the morning's paper under his nose. The man takes it, folds it open and begins reading. The lower half of a naked woman's body, mauled and beaten and scratched, found in the woods, with no knowledge of who she is, how she got there and who was responsible.

"Hmm," he says wisely.

"Well?" Stiles has a history test in five minutes and he's impatient and twitchy and he hasn't gotten a proper night's rest in four days, patrolling taking longer than usual with the sudden influx of vampires. No, really, there are more than there are usually, which means - _a lot_.

"I'll have to look into it," he says sagely, taking a sip from his mug, before sending Stiles the look. "Aren't you supposed to revise for your history test?"

He mimics laughing silently, "Yeah, funny. As if I have any chances of passing that test."

"If you need help with your studies-"

"No, I need help with the _vampires_, who have recently begun to form groups to try to take me out. No, seriously last night it took me _forty-two_ minutes to take care of a bunch of them and that was just one cemetery! I had six others to check out and four of them contained vampires!"

Deaton frowns mildly, "Yes, it seems there has been an even higher rate of missing people than usual. I'll look into it, perhaps there's a prophecy or an important date ahead that I've missed in my research."

He rolls his eyes at the predictable response, "You do that." He slaps his hand down on the counter, before waving nonchalantly as he heads to the door, "I'll come by later and bring the gang with me, perhaps Lydia will have actual answers for me." He glances back to smile brightly at the other's disgruntled glare before exiting the library.

* * *

"So what you're saying is that the wounds on her body look like a werewolf attack?"

"Yes."

"But the way she was cut in half indicates that she was a werewolf, who was killed by a werewolf hunter?"

"Mm... yes."

"So she was attacked by one of her own kind and then killed by a hunter?"

"I guess?"

Stiles slams his head onto the desk, "That doesn't sound right."

Lydia makes a noise of agreement, otherwise still focused on her reading. When they arrived at the library, Deaton was quick to inform them of the connection he had made - they apparently have a new kind of problem, a furry problem - werewolves. Seriously, Stiles was already beginning to hope there _were_ no werewolves. But nope, they exist. Goddammit, _everything_ exists. He should just start thinking like that to save him the trouble of being surprised when a new beastie comes to town. Hell, perhaps even the Cookie Monster is real.

"Does the Cookie Monster exist?"

Scott huffs, "Stiles, the Cookie Monster is a _muppet_."

He straightens in his chair and stares at his best friend who just looks at him with a look of '_duh_' before continuing to _pretend_ to read, while he's actually making goo-goo-eyes at Allison, who is biting her lower lip and occasionally brushing her hair behind her ear. Stiles can tell that Scott so wants to brush her hair for her. Their puppy love makes him sick, really, it's way past cute now, it's depressing.

"Anyway, what are we going to do about this, then? Hunt werewolves? Because if a hunter killed this werewolf, then if there's another one, surely they'll take care of that too? And since when do we have werewolf hunters in town, why can't they help out and hunt _other things_ as well, I could do with a night off, y'know!"

Deaton hums behind his tome of a book, hovering over the teenagers sitting around the round table. Heh, the round table. His mind takes off with that idea.

Before the librarian can say a word, Stiles is pointing at Scott, "I am so Arthur and you are so Lancelot, except for the whole Guinevere thing because I am so not into Allison, no offense." He directs the last bit at the brunette who looks up at him in confusion, glances at everyone else and then shrugs, continuing her reading.

Scott is making his confused face again, "What!?"

"Do try to keep up with my inner monologues, Scott. That's your duty as my best friend!" He waves his hand vigorously to express his frustration. Scott, however just chuckles.

"Yeah, alright." And continues to send loving stares towards his girlfriend.

Stiles should have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. He has love bursting out of his every opening- except _eww_. No.

"Still not ready to date me?" He asks Lydia. He swears everybody sighs _simultaneously_. It's freaky.

"No, Stiles."

"Will you ever date me?"

"No, Stiles."

"You're breaking my heart here."

"Whatever, Stiles."

"There. Done. Broken."

"Mhmh."

And he lost her.

"If you're quite done."

He perks up, now directing his attention towards his Watcher, who is observing them with a stern face. However, Stiles can see the amusement there and grins proudly. It always feels like an accomplishment when he manages to lighten the guy up a bit, he really is too unemotional at times.

"Are you sure you took your medication today?"

He huffs at the question, "Honey, you have no idea what I'm like without it, it's like ten times worse."

"Then let's make sure you never forget to take it, for the sake of my sanity."

"Yes, sir. So. About them werewolves."

"Well," and there he goes, sighing sagely again, "Like you said, if there are werewolf hunters here, then they'll most likely take care of it. They're fully equipped with weapons to take these creatures down and while I have an endless supply of stakes, crosses, holy water and crossbow arrows, as well as many other sharp objects, I do not, unfortunately, own any wolfsbane."

"Oh. So... no slaying for Stiles?" There's a slight tone of disappointment in his question, even though he did his best to make it sound more enthusiastic.

"You did say you've been swamped with vampire slaying these past few nights. I thought you'd be happy you won't have to take on another task."

"Yeah, perhaps we could even go to the _Jungle_ tonight?"

He shakes his head at Scott, who's looking so up for clubbing, there's an imaginary tail whipping in excitement behind his back.

"Firstly, Danny's going to be there and wouldn't it be a little weird? And secondly," He looks back at Deaton, "I was kind of getting curious. It would be awesome to check off werewolf on my _'fought and survived'_ list... that list is getting quite long, actually."

Allison is staring at him now, smirking softly, "You actually have a list, don't you." It's not even a question but Stiles shrugs and wiggles his eyebrows.

"You'll never know."

Lydia finally closes her laptop, looking around pertly, "So, that's it then? No more research necessary?"

Deaton puts down his tome, sighing, "I have a few things I'm going to look into, but I'm thinking we'll wait and see for now. Perhaps the other werewolf has already been killed and the body just hasn't turned up yet."

It suddenly strikes Stiles how calmly they're discussing about people killing other people, because to his knowledge and to what Deaton had shared with them, werewolves are mostly still human, live among society, hiding their true nature and don't need to kill anyone.

"So, how do we know for sure these werewolves need to be killed at all? Maybe I should be protecting them?"

"The hunters have a code. They don't hunt werewolves, who don't hurt people so it's safe to say it was for the safety of our town that they took care of this woman. It's brutal, yes, but necessary. When werewolves go on a rampage, there's hardly any stopping them, their rage _consumes_ them. They're not people anymore, Stiles. They become animals."

"Okay, okay, I get it." He stands up and stretches, wincing when he looks at the clock. "Guh, no time for studying or napping, got to get home and then straight to patrolling. Is it okay if I go home before dawn this time and you know, actually sleep?"

"But, _Jungle_!?"

He's rolling his eyes, about to refuse Scott's eager proposition when Deaton says, "How about I take over patrolling tonight. You go home, study, have fun with your friends and then actually sleep for a change."

Stiles blinks in amazement, staring at his Watcher, "Are you serious? You're giving me a night off?"

"I'm sure I can handle it for one night. And you might be The Slayer, but you're still a teenage boy. You need to rest. So yes, you have the night off."

He doesn't bother to hold back his excitement, letting his hands go high up as he whoops in joy, "_Awwyeah_!"

Scott joins in, which is why Stiles loves him, except when he cries out, "To the _Jungle_, baby!"

"No, bad Scott! We're not going to the _Jungle_!"

"Oh, honestly, why are you so afraid of Danny?"

He stares at Lydia's perfect face, unable to comprehend his friend's question, "Why shouldn't I be? He hates me!"

"No, he doesn't."

"Lydia, the guy used my e-mail account to sign up for like forty different newsletters, some of them were from porn sites!"

"Well, that was before," she says in that incomplete way that Stiles hates, why can't people just come out with what they're about to say anyway?

"Before what?" He gives in and asks.

"Before you saved him from that vampire."

He shakes his hands expressively, "What has that got to do with anything? It was three weeks ago, and so far things are still awkward and intense between us. Seriously, it's like I can _feel_ him thinking '_How dare you breathe the same air as me, Stilinski, you stood me up_!' and it's uncomfortable to be around that kind of tension!"

Allison's snorting. _Allison's_ laughing at him.

"Wha-_at_?" He whines.

And then Scott surprises him by answering, "Dude, Danny is like totally into you again."

"What?" He straightens fully, wide-eyed.

"Yeah," Allison smiles at him sweetly, "You saved his life, it's kind of a hero worship thing, I think."

"Oh. But, why hasn't he asked me out again?"

"Maybe because you intimidate him?"

He gapes at Lydia and totally ignores Deaton, who has so far just observed their conversation silently, no doubt hoping they'll leave soon.

"Intimi- I'm not intimidating- How can I intimidate him, have you _seen_ him? The guy's gorgeous and his body, _dayum_."

"Stiles." He calms down and takes in the _'You're so stupid_' look Lydia is fond of giving him. "As a teenage boy, you're a dork and completely harmless. As The Slayer, you're intimidating and admirable."

"Oh." And yeah, he kind of gets it.

"You sound disappointed," Scott points out.

"Well, intimidating someone into going on a date with me isn't exactly the best start to a relationship, now is it?"

"Oh, Stiles." Lydia rolls her eyes and gathers her things, standing up and shouldering her bag. "He asked you out before, didn't he?"

"Well, yeah."

"So he found you attractive before, didn't he?"

"Oh... yeah."

"In that case, why don't you go to the _Jungle_ tonight and ask him out finally, I'm tired of hearing you whine about your non-existent sex life."

He flushes, "Hey, I don't whine about that... much."

Lydia snorts and still manages to look the most beautiful girl on earth before she heads for the doorway, "See you tomorrow, Mr. Deaton!"

"Be safe!" The man calls back before staring meaningfully at the three remaining teenagers, "I think you should be going as well?"

Stiles salutes mockingly, "Yes, sir!" And ignores the weary sigh he receives in return. He waits for his friends to pack up their things and they head out together, Stiles having promised to give them both a ride home.

Then it hits him.

"Oh my God, what am I going to wear!?"

* * *

Finally, after some help from Allison, he ends up wearing a pair of light blue jeans, that look soft and worn because they're _old_ instead of having been designed that way and an old red T-Shirt, a size too small, tight enough to show off the few muscles he does have. Allison _ooh-ed_ and _aah-ed_ at his biceps and Scott was actually jealous, which is always amusing.

So they're at the club, Stiles is all dressed up for clubbing, Allison and Scott are gyrating and grinding on the dance floor and there's Danny... there's Danny making out with some other dude.

Stiles has never been happier for his fake ID as he asks for a Jack and coke, determined to drown his sorrow in alcohol. The bartender looks hesitant as he keeps glancing from the document to Stiles' face but in the end he shrugs, rolls his eyes, mutters '_Why not?'_ and slides the drink over. Stiles pays in cash, leaves a generous tip and gets a grin in thanks. He figures if he keeps those tips coming he won't have any problems getting drinks from _this_ bartender. Score.

He's turning around to check out the dance floor again, when his eyes are caught by the man sitting two stools down. Entranced and feeling bold, he takes a big sip of his drink before sliding onto the tool next to the stranger. The man doesn't glance his way but he can see those shoulders tensing under that leather jacket as his eyes sweep over the strong nose with a slight hook, the jaw carved from stone, the soft, plush lips and the faint stubble that would probably burn so good-

"It's rude to stare." The man shouts over the music, still keeping his eyes straight ahead. Stiles jumps a little but quickly settles down again, placing his drink on the bar and leaning in so he doesn't have to raise his voice so much.

"Sorry, I just couldn't help but come over. Are you new in town? I haven't seen you here before." And Jesus, that sounds like such a come on, when actually Stiles is just generally curious. No, really. But he figures his bravery won't go unrewarded and _yay_, the stranger's actually looking at him now.

And wow, hello gorgeous eyes. Damn, this guy just has gorgeous everything, doesn't he?

"I used to live here."

He sees the way the other is taking him in and tells himself to keep it cool, because he feels like twitching madly under the attention. Hot damn, he's actually getting _attention_ from a guy this hot. Danny _who_.

"Oh, okay. What brings you back?"

"Family."

"Not a talker, eh?" He wants to shut himself up, he wishes he could shut himself up. When he gets no reply besides a raised eyebrow that looks sassy as hell, he shrugs, "Hey, I get it. Clubs aren't actually meant for talking, y'know." He nods his head to the beat a little and feels like an utter dork, because the guy is still staring at him, most likely hoping that Stiles gets the hint and leaves.

But he's feeling a little stubborn and risque tonight, so here goes...

"Wanna dance?"

The guy rolls his eyes slightly, turning back to his untouched drink. Stiles just now notices the beer and the fact that the guy isn't drinking it. Isn't even holding the glass. It looks like it's there for show, like he's trying to blend in. Doing a shitty job of it, though.

"I don't dance."

Stiles gestures around them, "You're in a club. And you don't dance. Why are you here then?"

"Was meeting a friend."

"Oh," He immediately stands up, accidentally bringing himself even closer to the other, his chest brushing against the arm that's leaning on the bar. "Sorry, you should have said that you have a boyfriend, I wouldn't have-"

"I don't have a boyfriend."

He pauses. That didn't sound like a homophobic douche defending his heterosexuality, but you never know, "Girlfriend?"

"No."

So. This is confusing. He has no idea if he's anywhere close to achieving his very first hook-up here, although that's what he very much would like to happen. The bet with Scott is still on, because Allison hasn't been ready to go all the way yet, which means they're both virgins and whoever manages to have sex first can demand one game to be handed over to them by the other and he's seen Scott eyeing his Call of Duty and just... No. He might not have much time to play it, but he still likes the thought that if he _did_, he could.

He decides to stop beating around the bush because this guy seems to be quite straightforward, perhaps he'll appreciate Stiles being straightforward as well.

"So, maybe you can just tell me if I have a shot with you, because I'd like to leave here with my dignity intact. Just say no, and I'll walk away."

The guy turns to him again and they're so close, Stiles shivers a little. He can't believe he's here, actually doing this, actually talking to a guy, trying to chat him up. Of course he's totally sucking at it but it seems like he's making progress... he thinks.

"You do."

He gapes, tongue licking over his lower lip and _woah_, the guy's eyes totally followed that and_ holy shit_, he's licking his own lips in return. Is he flirting with Stiles? He is, isn't he. Stiles wasn't mentally prepared for this.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You do have a shot."

"I do?"

"You're wasting it now."

"Oh, oh, uh, I don't really know what I'm supposed to say here, haven't really done this before-" And now he's blushing and sweating and _nervous_ while the guy's sitting in front of him, cool as a cucumber.

"How about you tell me your name, I'll tell you mine and then we get out of here?"

He absolutely freezes up because that just sounded like an invitation to have sex, and this is a stranger, a hot stranger but still a stranger and he was thinking more along the lines of more talking, more getting to know each other before finally ending with sex but this dude is all on board with them just going at it right away and Stiles isn't sure if he's completely prepared for that-

"Stiles!"

"Oh my God, _what_!?" One day, he's going to kill his best friend.

"I think there's a you-know-what here."

He grinds his teeth together, glancing at his would-be-conquest from the corner of his eye and sees the man awfully interested in their conversation. He's staring at Scott with a weird look in his eyes, and oh, could that be jealousy? Stiles thinks it's jealousy. He's going with jealousy.

"Seriously? Now?"

Scott nods, face sympathetic as Stiles sighs and sags against the bar for a second before turning around to gulp down his drink and then facing his mystery guy again.

"So I have to go for a bit, but I'll be back soon if you just stay here," he rushes out, breathless as the other's intense stare takes up a notch.

"You're asking me to wait?"

"Would you? Because I really would like to see where this was going, I think we were heading in a great direction, don't you? So if you could just-"

Suddenly the guy's face is right there, their noses brushing against each other and Stiles is caught, so utterly caught as those eyes keep him still as a statue. In the end he has to breathe and takes in a shuddering gasp just before a mouth lightly brushes against his own. The sensation is electrifying, his toes curl just from that little brush, not even a kiss, not even a peck. The guy leans back and grins, satisfied. And um, that's a lot of white teeth.

"Hurry," he says before turning back to his drink, apparently completely sure that Stiles will obey.

And he will, if he has anything to say about it.

As it is, luring the vampire out into the back alley takes a while, as Allison doesn't seem to be his cup of tea and neither does Stiles but then finally Scott catches his eye and awkwardly manages to flirt a little, before gesturing towards the back entrance.

And the fight takes a while as well because the vampire turns out be an ex-martial artist. Stiles gets beat up. Severely. He's bleeding from three different places, has a sprained wrist and bruises on his back and he just wants to go home and pass out. Which is why he agrees when Scott says that hooking up with a stranger is really not the best idea right now, ignores Allison's questions ('What stranger? Stiles was hooking up with someone!?') and lets his buddy carry him to the car.

He now has to explain this to his dad.

And he missed out on what was most likely a once in a lifetime opportunity to have sex with a guy way out of his league.

His life officially sucks.


	2. The Alpha

**YAY**, the response has been great so far! I'm so glad I'm not the only one enjoying Slayer!Stiles, :D

* * *

Part 2/5

**The Alpha**

* * *

Having your dad drive you to school in his police car is utterly mortifying. People stop to point and stare, some of them clearly sneering, because what kind of a sixteen-year-old gets escorted everywhere by his dad? The kind that's grounded.

Scott at least looks sympathetic as he claps Stiles on the shoulder before they head to the entrance together.

"Your dad ground you again?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Because I suck at lying, that's why," he explains, sighing. "I show up bloody and bruised and try to tell him that I was mugged by a desperate homeless person but he didn't buy it and now I'm grounded." He whines, leaning against his friend for compassion, "I hate my life."

"Hey, Allison's still going to ask you about that guy. She's kind of curious and I gotta admit so am I, because it seems like things were getting kinda hot and heavy when I interrupted."

Stiles groans at the reminder, heading for Scott's locker because it's nearer than his and leaning against the one next to it as the other starts to take his books out for their first class.

"Guh, things were heading towards sex, man. _Sex_!"

"Really? But he was like... a total stranger and a lot older than us."

"Not a lot, I'm thinking early twenties or so," he nods to himself.

"Yeah, but if you get it on with Danny, nobody would care. If you get it on with _that_ guy, he might get arrested, man."

"Hey, I can keep a secret!"

"Did he even know how old or er, _young_ you are?"

Stiles grimaces in answer and Scott huffs.

"I think he wouldn't have approached you if he'd known."

"Well, he didn't even do the approaching. Plus, what if he's into younger guys. It's a thing, y'know, sexing up teenagers."

Scott looks disgusted and a bit outraged, "Yeah, for perverts. And what do you mean he didn't do the approaching? You approached him!?"

"Yup," Stiles isn't even trying to hide how proud he is of himself, "Finally went for it and hit on a guy and was getting remarkable results too, until you showed up and ruined it."

"Hey man, you know I'm sorry but that vampire was going to _eat_ somebody-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Anyway, I'm guessing I won't be seeing him again."

"Why?"

"Well, I did kind of leave him there hanging, I'm pretty sure someone else came on to him right after I left because did you _see_ the guy?"

"Yeah, I saw... Was kind of figuring he was out of your league, actually."

He gawks, "_Dude_!"

"I didn't mean it like that! He looked like he'd be out of anyone's league, even Lydia's!"

"No one is out of Lydia's league-"

The girl in question shows up out of nowhere just in time to say, "Well said," before moving on, not even glancing their way. To Stiles this is nothing out of the ordinary, to Scott it is incomprehensible as he gapes at Lydia's disappearing figure.

"-and the guy did seem kind of socially inept, he didn't really flirt and the whole thing wasn't what I imagined the lead-up to a hook-up to be, I mean he only wanted my name and then was ready to head on out, to '_get out of there_'."

"...That sounds creepy."

Stiles shakes his head, directing his wide eyes towards his friend to make his point clear, "No. Trust me. It was _hot_."

Scott snorts, rolling his eyes and closes his locker. They head for Stiles' next, meandering through the bustling crowd of students filling the hallways.

"I'm actually glad you're not going to see him again."

"Why!? Why would you deny me orgasmic bliss!? What kind of a friend _are_ you?" He hisses, eyes narrowed.

"Um, because he sounds like one of those guys who lures out teenage boys to do horrible things to them? Like murder them?"

"You're overreacting."

"Tell Lydia and Allison about last night, no, I dare you to tell Deaton and I'm sure you'll get the same response."

"Ha! They are sensible people and they'll understand that it was just an innocent hook-up. Dare accepted!"

* * *

"Are you a _total_ imbecile?"

"Excuse me?" He stares at Lydia's thunderous face in shock. They're doing their usual after-school Scooby meeting in the library and so Stiles shared his proud moment of _doing the approaching_ for once and the girls don't look happy for him. Even Deaton's frowning in a '_I disapprove of everything that's coming out of your mouth'_ kind of way and Deaton rarely does that.

"You would have just gone anywhere with a complete stranger? Are you _trying_ to get raped. God, the guy's _virgin and naive_ senses were probably tingling like hell."

"Now, hold on," he waves at everyone so they all know they're included in this, "_I_ am not naive. The guy wasn't even there looking for a hook up, I just happened to be there to save him from a depressing night alone and also, are we not going to address the big elephant in the room?" When all he gets is a bunch of confused stares he laughs in disbelief, "Hello? The Slayer?" He gestures at himself in circles, before placing his hands on his hips, confident, "If any guy would touch me in a way I wouldn't like, I could easily break their arm right off." He makes an illustrating gesture with his hand, and then makes it once more for good measure, "Right off," he repeats, smiling happily.

Allison is the first to break the silence that follows, "God, you're right," she laughs, obviously at herself and the others. Lydia looks miffed at actually being wrong in her accusations and Scott smiles apologetically. "It's just, you're so... _you_. Sometimes it's so easy to forget that you're actually a killing machine."

Stiles' eyes glaze over. "A killing machine, huh?" he mutters to himself and Scott shoots a wide-eyed look at his girlfriend, alarmed.

"You're giving him ideas, stop it!"

"I am? I didn't mean to!"

"Stiles," Deaton says calmly and manages to bring the boy out of his stupor.

"Yup?" He answers readily.

"Now that we've gotten over your last night's escapade, how about we start with the actual meeting."

"Oh, okay. There's actually something to meet about?"

Deaton nods, serious in every way which causes Stiles to drop his fidgeting and actually sit down and pay attention. Scott follows suit, while the girls had already been sitting, books in hand, like always.

"It's the werewolf. I think it's killed again, this time a video rental clerk." He lets the kids gasp a little in surprise, then continues, "It seems the hunters are either not doing their job right or might need a little hand." He looks pointedly at Stiles, who smiles a little.

"So Stiles slays after all?"

"I wish you'd stop referring to yourself in third person," The librarian mutters to himself before speaking in his normal volume, "Yes, but you're going to need different weapons, like I said. Now I contacted some of my friends and I managed to acquire you this," he says as he lifts a suitcase onto the table, opens it up and turns it towards Stiles.

"_Woah,_" Scott says at the sight of the gun._  
_

"Ugh, really?" Stiles whines. "These things, never helpful." But in spite of his lack of enthusiasm he lifts the handgun out to test the weight, nodding his head when he finds it light enough for quick movements and then inspects the bullets, "So, I'm guessing these have wolfsbane in them?"

"Yes and they're covered in silver, so it should do the job."

"Okay. Guess Stiles is hunting werewolves tonight," he pauses as a thought hits him. He turns to his best friend, laughing, "Hey, Scott, _be vewy, vewy quiet, I'm hunting-_"

"Don't." Lydia stops him.

"You're no fun."

"It's why you love me."

Stiles gapes at her, "Low blow, man. Low blow."

* * *

The night air's getting slightly warmer now but it's still cold enough to make Stiles shiver as he shuffles around the town. It's nearing dawn and so far there has been no sight of a werewolf or a disturbance or even any vampires. He at least expected vampires, especially considering how they've been appearing _everywhere_ lately. But nope, nothing for Stiles to fight, nothing for him to slay and Jesus Christ, he's bored out of his mind. And cold.

"Mmph, hi?" Scott gurgles at him and Stiles takes the phone away from his ear to look at the clock and yeah, he sometimes forgets how normal people actually sleep at this time.

"Uh, sorry, dude. I'm just really bored right now."

Scott, the wonderful person that he is, understands right away, "The werewolf was a no show?"

"Yeah, I didn't even see any vampires tonight."

"That's weird."

"I know, right?"

"Well... I guess you can come over..."

"I can? Yay!" He pumps his fist into the air cheerfully. "Because I drank a lot of coffee and forgot to take my medicine and I'm bouncing _off the walls, _dude. I just need to play some video games or something, that sound good?"

"Yeah, sure," Scott yawns loudly and then continues, "I'll leave the window open so you can climb in with your freaky athleticism."

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Scott."

"Shut up," the boy grumbles and promptly hangs up. Stiles isn't upset, though, because his friend just came through for him and that's _awesome_. The night might be saved just yet.

He heads home to sneak back into his room, stash the gun because he's not bringing that with him to Scott's house, no way no how, and to leave a note for his dad, saying he woke up early and went to Scott's for some extra studying before school and that the man can pick him up there. He's sure his dad's gonna like that. Well... he hopes.

Stiles easily jumps off the ledge of the roof again, landing softly on his feet before sneaking off.

And that's when shit hits the fan. Because there's a monstrous figure, resembling a wolf but still more like a _monster_ just standing there, in the middle of the street, staring at Stiles with big red eyes. And flashing big white teeth. And shuffling his big furry paws.

The thing is just big all over, okay?

And Stiles stashed his gun away in his room, which means he's totally defenseless against this thing. But he's not afraid, he'll improvise, he's always improvised before - this is not the first time he's gone against a Big Bad with nothing but his hands, feet and stamina. He's The Slayer, he can do this.

The werewolf lets out a big whopping roar, probably waking up half the neighborhood and Stiles turns around and runs. He may be The Slayer but he does have _some_ survival instincts, damn it.

He reaches a crossroads and as he turns left he glances behind him to see the werewolf easily gaining ground because even though Stiles is fast, he is not _that_ fast. He manages to reach the woods and before he can consider how awful the idea is, he's climbing up a tree. The werewolf reaches him and pauses, as Stiles swiftly lifts himself up and up, as high as he dares to go without breaking any branches he leans on. He looks down, sees the wolf circling the tree in frustration and starts to taunt him._  
_

"Ha! You're not getting anywhere _near_ this ass! Shoo! Go away, shoo!"

The werewolf must have understood because it suddenly roars with blood-thirst before slamming his whole weight against the trunk. Stiles wobbles as the tree sways violently. This is not good. Another slam and this time Stiles loses his balance enough for his foot to slip, twisting his ankle painfully. The result - hanging onto a branch with his hands, hovering over a savage beastie. This night just went from boring to horrific.

He tries to pull himself up, he easily has the strength but the creature doesn't let it happen, keeps slamming the tree, growling all the while.

"Okay, okay, don't panic. How about we try the usual routine. If running away doesn't work, let's try to make them run away. Okay. You can do it, Stiles. You're The Slayer, you can do anything." He gives himself the pep talk, forehead resting against his arm before he sighs and nods to himself. Right. On to it, then.

He glances down and satisfied that the werewolf is directly under him and for once not staring at his prey, he lets go and angles his legs so it'll really hurt the fucker. He plummets down, falling on the creature's back and he hears a few satisfying cracks, feels a sense of accomplishment before he uses the momentum to backflip off the beastie, and not hesitating for a moment before running away.

He laughs, elated, when he realizes there is no thundering gait behind him; the wolf isn't following him anymore. He runs non-stop all the way to Scott's and when he manages to climb up and swing himself through Scott's window, he's sweaty, dirty and has to pluck a few leaves off his clothes.

Scott stares at him, eyes blinking slowly, "What the hell happened to you?"

Stiles grins, "I finally met the wolfie."

* * *

"What kind of an idiot runs on a twisted ankle?"

He's too busy to reply to Lydia's question as he's currently enjoying the attention he's getting from her soft, feminine- "_Ow!_"-rough, unmerciful hands. "What the hell? That's too tight, Lydia!"

"Oh, is it?" The redhead blinks up at him innocently before loosening the bandages a little. She finally pats his foot and stands up from her crouch, returning to her laptop, "All better?"

"Thank you, love you!" Stiles calls out, hearts about to burst out of his eyes when Deaton interrupts.

"You said it was a monstrous figure, resembling a wolf?" When Stiles nods, he continues, "And it had red eyes, you're certain?"

"Absolutely, I saw them close enough when I was hanging down from that tree."

"Hmm,"

That's not a good sound. Stiles straightens in his chair, placing his injured leg on the table, silently hoping it'll be okay by tomorrow.

"What's wrong?" Scott asks, beating Stiles to the question.

"What you described is no ordinary werewolf. It's an Alpha."

Lydia perks up, fascinated, "An Alpha? You mean the whole Alpha, Beta, Omega dynamics stretch out to werewolves as well?"

"Yes, although it appears in a different way than it does in wolf packs. An Omega is a lone wolf, a packless wolf. Betas are wolves in a pack and they follow their leader, the Alpha. Now unlike in many werewolf lore and stories, only an Alpha can turn a person into a werewolf. A Beta has no such power. But usually where there's one wolf, there's another. Omegas are rare for a reason; werewolves survive better within a pack."

Stiles nods slowly, "So... there's a pack in town?"

"That's the thing, what you described, that's not an ordinary Alpha, either. It's lost control, lost almost all of it's humanity. It's an animal driven by instinct and a lust for blood. No pack would abide with such an Alpha. I think he might be alone."

Allison and Scott are both quiet, taking it all in while Lydia's tapping her pen against her open textbook, "Were there any werewolves here in Beacon Hills before?"

Deaton looks surprised at the question but Stiles notices how he hesitates, obviously thinking of something. Lydia seems to be thinking of the same thing and they share a look that Stiles is sure is telepathic because _they're not saying anything aloud_.

"Ahem, mind sharing with the rest of the class?"

Lydia ignores him, her attention still on Deaton as she asks, "The Hale fire wasn't an accident, was it?"

"Nothing was proven."

"They were a large family, living out in the woods... they were a pack, weren't they?"

Stiles frowns in confusion, "The Hale fire?"

Scott's eyes are wide again as he comes to the same realization that Lydia apparently had, "But there were survivors, Derek and Laura Hale and... their uncle, I think?"

Deaton hums, "Yes, but their uncle is in long-term care, in a coma. Laura and Derek left the town after the fire, last I heard they were in New York."

Stiles and Allison are starting to understand what everyone's getting at.

"And a fire is a pretty traumatic thing to happen to a person, could make them go feral even," Allison remarks.

"So we're thinking the Hale siblings came back to Beacon Hills, one of them is a feral Alpha and the other is what, just hanging around?" Stiles asks the group.

Deaton shakes his head, "Only one of them could have come back, or perhaps they're trying to re-form their pack. Perhaps the Alpha tried biting these people and when the bite didn't work, it killed them."

"Okay, but _my_ question is, _why _aren't the hunters dealing with this? Do you know who the hunters are? Perhaps I should talk to them."

"I don't think that's a good idea, let's just try to figure this out on our own for now."

He shrugs at Deaton's answer, although he can see Lydia narrowing her eyes at the librarian. She's suspicious of something and that makes Stiles wary as well.

"So what do we do now?" Scott asks, picking at the pages of the book in front of him. Stiles bets the guy doesn't even know the title.

"I guess Stiles should continue patrolling the streets, perhaps even the woods... this time _with_ the gun, please?"

He smiles sheepishly.

"Will do."

* * *

Patrolling is once again a boring affair. Only this time Stiles went without any coffee, after going back on his normal medication schedule and now he's tired and just wants to sleep. He climbs in through his window at three in the morning, loose-limbed and sleepy.

When he returns from brushing his teeth, he tenses up and loses all signs of sleep because there's a man standing in his bedroom. A man, Stiles realizes as he turns around, who has a very familiar face.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" He'd very much like to use the guy's name but unfortunately they hadn't gotten that far at the club. So he's just gesturing in a panicky way because there he is, his first and most likely _last_ chance at a hot hook-up, standing there, next to his bed, like an invitation.

Stiles notes with satisfaction that the other man seems just as surprised to see him.

A thought hits him like a lightning bolt and he gapes, "Is this a dream? Because this seems like the start to a very good dream and I _was_ tired when I went to the bathroom, oh my God, did I fall asleep on the toilet or something? That's fucking embarrassing-" He gets slammed up against the wall, his breath knocked out of him.

He stares at the other's face for a moment, taking in how the man's tensed up, thick yet _elegant_ eyebrows scrunched down in a severe frown. Stiles is way too turned on to care, though, "Oh God, is this leading to wall sex? I'd happily go for some wall sex-"

"Shut up."

"Hey, _rude_, this is my dream!" He pouts, slapping the other's chest before the man's grip on his arms tighten _painfully_. "Ow, not that much into pain, I'm afraid."

"This isn't a sex dream, dumbass."

"Oh?" He quirks an eyebrow, doubtful, "Then why are you here?" He asks, confident. And gulps, slumping against the wall in surrender when he gets his answer.

The man's face morphs into that of a werewolf's, eyes shining a clear, unnatural blue.

And Stiles manages to focus on something completely unimportant at the moment since he _should_ be concentrating on how he's getting out of here alive or perhaps what would be the quickest way to the gun stashed into his schoolbag for tomorrow (he's never leaving that gun behind again, _n__ever_), but no, all he can manage to say is,

"Oh, well I gotta say, I am kinda glad you didn't turn out to be the murderous Alpha who almost killed me last night."

When the other growls threateningly, hands coming up to form fists in Stiles' shirt as he's lifted up from the ground, legs hovering uselessly about a feet from the floor, he does another recklessly stupid thing. He's on a roll tonight.

He slaps his hand against the other's forehead as a reprimand, "Bad wolf! This is no way to communicate!"

The Slayer has no fear. There will be stories about this after his death, he's sure.

But amazingly enough, after shaking his head in fury at the slap, Derek snaps his teeth aggressively before _letting Stiles down_ and stepping away, face returning to it's original beautiful form.

"So..." Stiles pants a little, because that was _intense_, "You're not going to kill me?"

The man rolls his eyes, "Of course not."

"Than what was all that growling and manhandling for."

"_That _was not telling me you were _sixteen_ years old when you were flirting with me at the club."

_Oh_.

"Wait, how do you know how old I am?"

"I was told The Slayer's a sixteen-year-old boy living at this address. Is there another who fits the description?"

"Uh, no-"

"Then you're The Slayer."

"Um, okay, yes-"

"And you're _sixteen_."

"Okay, guilty."

"And you're going to help me kill my uncle."

"Yeah, sure- wait, _what?_"

* * *

**tbc; **hopefully soon. :)


	3. Lovable

**an**: things got a little more serious in this chapter... oops? changed the second genre to _drama_. also; warning for some violence, nothing overly graphic but there _is_ blood...

* * *

Part 3/5

**Lovable**

* * *

"You're going to help me kill my uncle," the guy repeats, face now devoid of emotion, his tone suggesting that this is a totally normal request, that Stiles shouldn't be this surprised. He_llo_, this is the weirdest request Stiles has ever heard of and that's including the time a demon asked him to be his _bride_. So he thinks he has a right to be freaked out.

He huffs, pushes away from the wall and crosses his arms defensively, hopes that his biceps bulge a little. Okay, granted, they probably look like pebbles compared to the werewolf's muscles but he thinks his own look threatening enough if you combine them with Slayer strength. He's quite sure he could easily break this guy in half.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," he bobs his head to emphasize his current frustration, "What I don't get is why, who the hell's your uncle, who the hell are you, why are you in my room, couldn't you wait to approach me out in daylight like a normal person, who the hell told you about me and gave you my address and why the fuck would I help you if you're attitude is _that_ shitty?" He finishes off, gesturing to all of the other, sure that his face clarifies his need for some answers here.

The guy looks like he's in pain, "They warned me about you being annoying."

Um. Not okay.

"Let's start with that! Since you're incapable of being a nice human being and actually answering the questions the _Sheriff's sixteen-year-old son_ is asking you, _the twenty-something stranger standing in my bedroom_." His head jerks in a '_are you getting the hint?_' motion. "Who the hell are '_they_'?" He asks, hands lowering to his hips cockily.

The guy looks like he doesn't want to answer, but finally sees that he really has no other choice, especially when he wants The Slayer's help, "The Council."

He loses some of his confidence, "What? Why? Why would they tell you anything?"

"My sister was a member-in-training... when she was killed, they contacted me."

Stiles starts to connect the dots, "Oh, I think I know who you are now... you're Derek Hale, aren't you?" When the guy nods stiffly, Stiles continues, "And your sister was the first victim, the woman cut in half-"

"Torn in half," Derek interrupts, frowning again.

"Hm?"

"Torn. She was torn in half by the Alpha," and it obviously pains the guy to say that so Stiles tones his whole interrogator look down a little.

"Right... Who _is_ the Alpha, do you know?"

Derek looks at Stiles weirdly, "_My uncle_ is the Alpha, you idiot."

"But he's in a coma, my Watcher said your uncle is in a coma, _right__ now._"

"He is," Derek sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as if he were uncomfortable, which makes Stiles snort in his head, because at least the werewolf can leave. Since this is Stiles' bedroom, he's kind of stuck with this conversation and if it weren't for the other's obvious anger at Stiles' age, he'd be enjoying it a lot more. He still hopes there'll be kissing. The least Derek could do after barging in like this would be offering some kisses. Hey, maybe he could charge them for helping the guy. Stiles is getting _ideas_.

"It's complicated." Derek finally continues, pulling the teenager out of his dirty, dirty mind.

"How about you uncomplicate it, then?" He receives a very effective glare in return, only the werewolf probably hadn't planned on the effect to be Stiles getting _turned on_.

"Werewolves heal a lot faster than humans. You could stab me right now and the wound would heal in minutes... My uncle was in the house when the fire started, he barely got out alive. He's been healing slowly all these years, stuck in his own mind, but the wolf in him... when the wolf comes out, he can move again." He pauses, voice going quieter, "I think Laura suspected it would happen and came here to try to talk to him. The Council said that she had told them to contact me if something were to happen to her. To tell me that it was to do with our family."

Okay, hotness and anger issues aside, Stiles is starting to feel sorry for the guy. The realization that this man had lost all of his family suddenly and now his last living family member had been the one to kill his sister hits him and he drops his defensive act entirely, growing somber.

"So, you're certain your uncle's the Alpha?"

Derek seems to relax when he sees Stiles becoming more serious about the situation.

"Yes. I tracked the scent to the hospital. And last night..." He hesitates, breathing deeply, "Last night I followed the nurse as he took my uncle outside and I saw him change. I saw the form his wolf took and he's not the man I used to know any more."

"Whoa, you saw him change _last night_? And you couldn't have stopped him from running around town and then driving me up a tree?"

Derek snaps out of his gloomy mood, eyebrows flying up in disbelief, "You tried to get away from him by climbing up a tree?"

"Hey!" He waves a hand in warning, "I was unarmed and freaking out, I was just trying to get to safety."

"I didn't stop him because I _couldn't_. I'm only a Beta, an Omega now that Laura's dead. I wouldn't stand a chance against him. Why were you unarmed?" And God, he sounds like Deaton when he asks that, all haughty and disapproving.

Stiles closes his eyes, annoyed as he says,"That does not matter, believe me that's not a mistake I'll be making twice," he looks up again, meeting Derek's gaze, "So the facts are that you're a Beta, he's an Alpha, I'm The Slayer and we're taking him down, right?"

"I have to be the one to kill him."

"Great. Another complication, _fan_tastic," he stops because the other's glaring again and sighs, "Why?" He asks, hating that he even has to ask. The guy should seriously realize when he's not offering enough information for people to actually _understand_.

"If I kill him I'll become an Alpha."

"And... you really-really _want _to become an Alpha?"

Derek frowns, looking like this is the first time he's truly thought about it, "No."

"Wh-" Stiles starts asking but stops himself, completely annoyed by this man right now. When Derek meets his eyes with this look of confusion, Stiles licks his lips furiously and wiggles his head in irritation, "Seriously, man? Why do you have to be the one to kill him then?" He asks slowly in a monotonous tone, hoping it reflects his dissatisfaction at having to drag every little detail out of the guy. He's used to Deaton, who overshares most of the time and Lydia, who recognizes his '_Kind of out of the loop here, guys_' face and always helps him with sharply worded facts.

"Because becoming an Alpha is the only chance I have at forming a new pack."

And that... that's kind of heartbreaking, actually.

"Oh," Stiles replies eloquently. "Um, so you just need me to distract and beat him up or something?"

"Basically. I was told you're excellent at..."

He narrows his eyes at the way Derek suddenly cuts off his sentence, "No, go ahead, say what they told you. I'm completely aware of how The Council sees me."

"Excellent at _squabbling_ and _running your mouth,_ is how they put it."

He smashes his lips together, infuriated.

"_Squabbling?_ I fight for my life almost every night, save the world just _barely_ and they call it _squabbling_?" He makes a face of outrage at Derek, hoping the man will somehow agree with him how truly unfair that is.

Derek just raises his eyebrows, glancing away shortly in a manner of '_What exactly are you expecting of me here?__'_. Stiles is willing to let it go, but only because there are more important matters at hand.

"If I agree to help you will you actually let me sleep tonight? I have school soon, so..."

"When are we going after him?"

Stiles rolls his eyes, "Um... come by the school? Me and The Gang are at the library every day after school and we can come up with a plan then, my Watcher will want to hear about this too."

"The Gang? I understood that The Slayer worked alone."

He cringes, knowing how The Council would severely dislike his friends knowing about him, "Yeah, well. I do the _actual work_ alone... most of the time. They help me with research, you know finding ways to kill the baddie, keeping track of apocalyptic dates and events, that sort of thing." He waves his hand nonchalantly, wetting his lower lip nervously.

Derek pauses, glancing upwards, seemingly taking it all in before shrugging, "Fine. What time should I come by?" He asks, pulling out his phone. He starts tapping in something while Stiles hesitates, eyes fixated on the device and Derek's fingers.

"Uh, four-ish?"

"Your number?"

"Hm?"

"I need your number."

"You want my number?"

Derek freezes at the sheer excitement in Stiles' voice and the teenager visibly starts, shaking his head and continuing, "I mean, yeah, of course you need my number, just in case- yeah." He rattles out the number, inching closer to the man as he does so. When they've finished checking it by Derek repeating it to him and Stiles confirming that he entered it correctly, he's standing with just a few inches left between them, hovering over the phone Derek's holding in front of his chest, frowning at the contact information he's reading.

"_The Slayer_? Really?" He looks up and momentarily loses his trail of thought at the proximity, focusing on the eyes that are still as intense as he remembers and then the mouth which brushed against his own so teasingly, now close enough to reach again- he snaps out of it, eyes flying back up and ignoring the amusement he sees there, "Hi, I'm Stiles. That's my _name_. Which you should put as the contact's _name_, you know."

Derek totally ignores him and pockets his phone again, without making any adjustments to the contact information.

"I'll see you at _four-ish_, then," he says almost mockingly, rolling his eyes again as he turns away.

Stiles is seeing the sassy, '_I'm ignoring you'_ type he's developing. Lydia's quite similar with him when he starts being annoying again (read: almost always).

"Wait, um," As he says it, he's already screaming at himself in his head. Derek at least _does_ wait, turning around and leaning against the window sill, sliding his hands into his jacket's pockets, an expectant look on his face.

He laughs softly, _awkwardly_ before going ahead, "Are we ever going to continue this?" He sucks in his lips, shaking his head a little because he can't believe he's going through with this when the guy is this unapproachable.

"This?" Derek asks, impatient. His hands, as they gesture widely, spreading his jacket a little more open making Stiles stare quite openly, because that tight shirt clings in _every right way_.

"You know," he starts, lacking a lot of confidence at the moment, "This thing we have." Derek's eyebrows do their upward motion again, making Stiles flush, embarrassed, "We were kind of _heading_ somewhere at the club, you know?" He finally pushes out, staring at everything but the man in his room.

"I didn't know you were sixteen then," Derek says with no hesitation.

"Yeah, _okay_, but you were _interested_."

The werewolf shrugs, "So?"

"And... I think we could, still-"

"You do know that we _were_ heading towards a one night stand?"

Stiles nods quickly, "Yeah, I figured that. No strings attached, no phone numbers exchanged, that kinda thing."

"And now it would be kind of difficult to maintain that considering we're going to kill my uncle together?"

"Firstly, weirdest question ever. Secondly, _fine_. I get it." He bobs his head in agreement but continues when Derek straightens to leave, "But you still want to?"

The man stares for a moment, Stiles shivering a little under the attention, "You're sixteen," he replies, turning his back to Stiles with the intention of pulling himself out of the room.

"But if I wasn't?" Stiles has no idea where he's going with this, maybe he just wants some confirmation that he's actually attractive enough to hold the interest of a guy who looks like _that_.

Derek huffs out what Stiles thinks is a laugh, "I didn't know you were this _annoying_ then, either."

And a second later, the teenager is alone again. Gaping at the window in outrage, because, "_Fuck you,_" he manages to breathe out into the silence surrounding him._  
_

He changes clothes quickly and slumps onto the bed, dragging himself under the blankets. He's angry, a little hurt and offended but he manages to fall asleep in record time as he suddenly remembers just how tired he was when he came home in the first place.

Even though he's still mad, when he wakes up a few hours later to get ready for school, he still somehow manages to get himself turned on while thinking about Derek _being in his room_ as he showers. He jerks off angrily and wallows in self-pity afterwards.

"This is so pathetic," he mumbles to himself before heading downstairs for breakfast.

* * *

The Gang and Deaton don't take the news well. Fortunately, _this time _they only seem to be angry at Derek rather than Stiles, considering that the man decided it would be okay to just enter Stiles' room without permission and threaten him before demanding his help.

The Slayer himself is a little disappointed with himself since those weren't even the reasons he was so mad at the werewolf. But he thinks sharing that he's angry because the guy decided he doesn't want to sleep with the boy he was flirting with before because apparently Stiles is too _annoying_ for that is not going to go over well. Especially considering how everyone's all gung-ho about defending Stiles from this creep. Well, that's Scott. Allison just seems worried about the two of them taking on the Alpha, while Lydia's phoning Danny to ask him to find out everything he can about one Derek Hale. And Deaton... Deaton seemed the most outraged at how The Council just offered The Slayer's whereabouts to a werewolf. It's easy to understand the reasons for this, but Derek's sister _was _a member-in-training. Stiles figures they must have done their background check and found her worthy enough, so Derek must be a guy they can trust as well.

Deaton seems to understand the points Stiles makes, but he doesn't agree as wholeheartedly as he should.

In the end they all manage to agree on one thing at least; since it's their town and the lives of everybody they know are in danger and since Stiles was going to hunt the beastie _anyway_, they'd help Derek out and get rid of the Alpha. Stiles is trying very hard not to address the monster that he saw last night as the guy's uncle or as _Peter Hale_ after Deaton told them the name, because he isn't really into killing people, it's just not what he does. The fact that werewolves are humans most of the time doesn't seem to bother anyone else this much so he tries to let it slide.

So after Derek texts Stiles that he's at the parking lot, everyone gets a little tense but otherwise seem welcoming enough that Stiles nods in satisfaction, gives them a quick thumbs up and goes out to meet the werewolf.

"Holy shit, is that your car!?" He can't help but shout as soon as he sees the black slick-looking _sex machine_ parked next to his Jeep. And since it goes so well with the black-wearing _sex machine_ leaning against the hood, he allows himself to drool a little. He's a teenage boy, he has needs.

Derek doesn't answer, just straightens and rolls his eyes in the way that Stiles is _already_ getting used to seeing and waits for the boy to start leading the way.

"Okay, so, don't be alarmed if the girls get a little glare-y or if my Watcher seems overly polite and distant or if my best friend scowls at you a lot. They kind of don't like you right now."

The man looks nonplussed, "Why? I haven't even met them yet."

"Well, you _did_ climb up into my room uninvited and you _did_ threaten me. They're a little overprotective."

"I did _not_ threaten you," Derek points out, using his eyebrows to emphasize. "I got mad at you for lying about your age and liked the thought of scaring you into submission."

"Yeah," Stiles stresses out, "Because that sounds so much better. Besides, didn't work, did it? I'm not exactly submissive." A moment later he realizes how wrong that statement is considering how he's already managed to fantasize about a certain man's dick in his certain _quite submissive_ areas. He feels his face get embarrassingly red again and refuses to meet the other's gaze although he can feel his usual intensity burn into the back of his head. He rushes, leading the other through the hallways in silence from then on and pushing the library doors open with a flourish.

"Welcome to my second home," he says proudly, gesturing for Derek to enter. He follows the guy and stands by his side, a little shocked at the chilly atmosphere they just walked into.

"Uh, guys?" He asks, because he can see Derek tensing up, probably in defense, thinking he's going to get attacked soon. Judging by Lydia's narrowed gaze and flared nostrils, he considers telling Derek to just run away as quickly as possible.

And then...

"I'm surprised. Well done, Stiles." Lydia says calmly, giving him an admiring glance. Stiles' mouth is open in surprise, as usual. Allison takes it a little further.

"You approached _him_? Wow, I gotta say I'm impressed, Stiles."_  
_

He gawks.

"He looks even better than I remembered," Scott mutters, frowning like that's a bad thing.

And Deaton tops it all off with, "And he's older than I thought he'd be."

Stiles waves his hand in a '_Stop it, right now!_' kind of gesture because this is getting ridiculous. He steps away from Derek, further into the room and gestures between himself and the man, "This? Is not happening. Me and him killing the Alpha, however, _is_. So how about we focus on _that__. _We need a plan, pronto."

His friends at least look a little chastised and apologetic. Well everyone, except Lydia. She never apologizes.

"So, Derek, meet Scott, my best friend-" The boy gives an awkward wave, "-his girlfriend, Allison-" She has no trouble smiling sweetly and nodding as a greeting, which Stiles is grateful for, "-Deaton, my Watcher-" His smile is a little more strained but at least he _tries_, "-and Lydia, my future wife."

"As if, Stiles," she says charmingly, turning to Derek like they're friends already as she announces, "I have better taste than that."

"Lovable, isn't she?" Stiles asks utterly deadpan. He sighs and sits down at his usual spot, waving at the few empty chairs around the table, "Come on, sit down and let's huddle." Derek looks uncomfortably out of place as he pulls out a chair and gracefully sits on it before placing his feet on the table, suavely crossing them at the ankles. Deaton looks like he wants to chastise the man for it but Stiles manages to catch his eye and shakes his head with a hardened stare. He does _not _want to annoy Derek further, because the guy needs to be at least a little sociable for them all to work out some sort of a plan.

"So. We have an Alpha to kill. Let's get to it!"

* * *

"This plan is ridiculous," Stiles mutters to himself. "This really isn't a plan at all, it's basically what I do, every night of my so-called life, only this time I have a guard dog with me."

"Shut up," is Derek's input to the conversation.

"I should have said no, I should have insisted that you stay back or that we separate or something-"

"How would we be able to take the Alpha out _together_ if we're separated?"

"I don't know! All I know is that your presence is in fact _annoying me_. Yeah," He laughs harshly, "Who's annoying now?"

"Stiles," Derek stresses angrily as he continues walking, glancing at their empty surroundings, "How can I be annoying you, when I'm not the one constantly chattering when we should be _listening_ in case the Alpha is near by."

"Easily. The fact that you're _here_, annoys me. What if I get struck by performance anxiety? I'm not used to having to fight in front of the hot guy I'm interested in, you know? What if your presence gives the Alpha a chance to take me down?"

"I'm still doubting your ability to take _him_ down."

Stiles pauses, refusing to walk any further down the street as he glares, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Derek turns around and strides back, obviously hating taking every step, "You _ran_ from him the last time you saw him and you climbed up a _tree_."

"Yeah, and look here - still alive! I could easily take him on in a fight, I just chose _not to_, okay?"

The man huffs and turns his back, not waiting for Stiles to follow him as he begins walking again in long strides. Stiles has to jog to catch up and becomes even more irritated.

"I still can't believe you're sixteen," Derek mutters and the boy winces at the reminder.

"Yeah, we went over this. Jailbait, _forgive me_," his sarcastic tone is really gaining dominance over this conversation. That's usually a bad sign.

"No, I didn't mean-" Derek sighs harshly and Stiles slows down, boldly grabbing the man's arm to pull him closer, forcing him to walk slower as well.

"What did you mean then?" He asks calmly, hoping his lack of _chatter_ will make the other a little more forthcoming.

"It's hard to imagine you being The Slayer I've heard so many stories about, that's all..." Derek reveals, shrugging and refusing to meet Stiles' gaze.

Stiles lets his grip on the man loosen but leaves his hand where it is, uncertain how he should react right now, "Um. You heard stories about me?"

The man finally looks at him again and the boy can't hold back a slight thrill at the softened gaze, "Yeah, Laura found it amusing how often The Council got all furious because of you and yet how so many of the couldn't stop praising you, when you finally got the job done."

He straightens, preening visibly, "They actually praise me over there? From what Deaton's said, I figured I was a big disappointment to them." He regrets saying it as soon as it's out of his mouth because that's a weakness he's never shared with _anyone_ before. He can also see Derek reacting to it, frowning as he parts his lips before squeezing them together in what Stiles figures to be Derek's '_thinking face_'.

"Stiles, you're not-"

Whatever the man was about to say, and really whatever Stiles actually _really_ wanted hear would have to be put on hold for now as they hear a low rumbling sound coming from behind them. They turn as one, Stiles' hand slipping away from Derek's arm as they stare at the Alpha in surprise.

"Didn't you hear it coming? Or smell it, or something?" He asks Derek, a little irritated again.

"I was a little busy thanks to a certain someone," the werewolf quips back, annoyed. Stiles sees Derek changing from the corner of his eye and actually relaxes a little when the man growls in reply to the Alpha.

"So we're doing this?"

"If you're ready."

The Alpha roars before heading towards them in a speed that makes Stiles feel squeamish. "And if I said I wasn't?" He squeaks out, ignoring how Derek shoots him a quick look of shock, choosing instead to rush straight to battle.

"C'mon, let's break a few legs!" He shouts boldly, ignoring the sick feeling of terror that's rising up in him at the sight of those crazed red eyes.

He's got fast enough reflexes to dodge and roll away from the swipe of claws. When the Alpha gets close enough to bite, Stiles doesn't hesitate to punch him under the jaw, exposing the werewolf's neck for another forceful punch to his throat. The beast staggers for a moment and Stiles uses the chance to continue with his favorite move - lightning fast jabs to every part he can reach, the strength behind the hits enough to cause fractures if not break a few bones. Seeing how his enemy's dazed and hurt, he finishes it off with a roundhouse kick to it's head, sending it stumbling. He watches, panting as the Alpha falls to his side, a gurgling whine emitting from it's throat.

Stiles looks up at Derek, who's a few feet away, staring at him a little wide-eyed and any other time he'd love the attention, would use it to his advantage to perhaps convince the other to forget the age thing and have his way with him but their job is far from done and when Stiles is truly focused, he gets shit _done_, dammit.

"Any time now. Whenever you're ready." He breathes out, relaxing from his fighting stance, gesturing at the Alpha meaningfully. The werewolf is already obviously healing, trying to get himself upright again and Derek is losing a perfect opportunity to finish it off. Stiles takes a few quick steps and kicks the creature hard right in the middle, aborting its plans and making it thud down again. Derek finally snaps out of it, quickly coming over to push the Alpha onto its back and then crouch over him. Stiles sees the red eyes blinking hazily, staring up at the man in what could easily be either recognition or complete madness.

One of Derek's hands is curled in the werewolf's fur, the other is tensed up at his side, claws out and ready. Stiles understands the hesitation, the guy's about to kill his last living family member. But he fears they're never going to get another chance as good and clean as this one.

"Derek, _now_, before he heals again!" He shouts at him, satisfied when Derek shakes his head, takes a deep breath and pulls his arm back, ready to swipe at the Alpha's neck.

And that's when it goes all wrong.

The beast's instinct to survive kicks in as he howls loudly, causing Derek to flinch just before a deformed hand with much larger claws than the other's goes through Derek's stomach.

"Derek!" Stiles yells, about to run over and help when the Alpha heaves the other off of him and throws him to the side, right against Stiles. They crash into the ground in a bloody heap, Stiles shaking in horror as he pulls himself away from the man's still body, whimpering at the sight of so much blood. He hears loud huffs and snarls and looks over at the creature who's slowly pulling himself up, finally standing on all fours again.

His breathing quickens when those red eyes fixate on him again, the werewolf starting a slow approach towards him.

"I don't know if you're alive, Derek, but I'm sorry about this," he says quietly before reaching behind him at the gun tucked into his waistband. The Alpha sniffs loudly and lets out a thundering roar, sweeping out so quickly Stiles isn't able to dodge away from the other's grasp. A clawed hand wraps itself around his neck, pulling him up to dangle a few feet from the ground, choking desperately. He prays to anyone who might be listening to let at least _something_ go right tonight as he manages to tighten his grasp on the gun, pull back the safety and shoot. The Alpha immediately drops him, howling loudly in pain. Stiles sees lights being turned on further down the street, everybody waking up at such a haunting sound.

A few moments later he breathes out shakily when the werewolf just turns around and runs, the silver bullet stuck in his left foot.

He grunts in exhaustion as he pushes himself up, going over to Derek's lying form. He almost cries at the utter relief that flows through him when he sees the other's skin looking a little less pale, his chest actually moving as he breathes and when Stiles wipes at the blood on the other's stomach with one of his sleeves, he's glad to see the wound already making quick work of shutting itself, the bleeding having stopped.

Stiles hears dogs barking and doors being opened, so he thinks fast. He gathers Derek up, throwing him over one of his shoulders in a fireman's hold, groaning at the weight of pure hard muscle as he starts a light jog towards Deaton's house.

* * *

"How is he?" He asks, gratefully accepting the cup of hot cocoa that Deaton's offering.

"Almost fully healed, he just needs to sleep a bit."

Stiles nods in understanding, moaning at the wonderful, sweet taste of chocolate-y goodness as he takes a sip from his cup.

"You should sleep too," Deaton adds, taking a seat in the armchair next to the couch.

"Yeah, trust me, you have no idea how happy I am that tomorrow's Saturday. I haven't been sleeping well for over a week now."

"You should be getting home then."

He nods again but holds up a finger as he takes another sip, "Right after I finish this lovely nectar of life." He closes his eyes and hums at the warmth spreading all over his body. Hot drinks are the best after a long night of patrolling or fighting. They're also excellent when you're still completely traumatized. He hopes Deaton can't see how shaken up Stiles really is.

"So I take it things didn't go as planned?"

"Considering that Derek was almost killed, the Alpha might still be alive... yup, you could say that," he quips cheerfully, ignoring the stink eye Deaton's giving him. He's tired of taking things seriously, let him have his fun.

"_Might_ still be alive?"

Stiles pauses, "Uh, well I shot him with one of those silver bullets."

"Where did you aim?" His Watcher asks calmly.

"At his foot?"

"You aimed at his foot on purpose? Why? There are ways for him to get the bullet out as well as cure the wolfsbane poisoning. By shooting at the part of him that's furthest from his heart, you've actually given him time."

His fingers tap a rhythm against the cup, losing all pretense of being cheerful as he stares at the steaming liquid, growing somber.

"Derek needs to become an Alpha."

"But Derek failed to kill his uncle."

"But I can't just..." he huffs angrily, "I can't just take that away from him. A werewolf needs a pack, you told us that. I don't... I don't want Derek to be alone after this and becoming an Alpha is his only chance at forming a new pack, so..." he pauses to laugh at how ridiculous and pathetic he's sounding right now, "I shot Peter in the foot to give him a fighting chance. To give _Derek_ a fighting chance."_  
_

In the end he leaves his cup only half-empty, too worn out and distressed to fully enjoy the cocoa.

After Stiles has left for his own home, Deaton smiles to himself as he takes the cup into the kitchen, offering the leftover drink to the man standing there, leaning against the counter.

Derek quietly accepts the drink, staring down at it, similar to Stiles' earlier actions.

"Lovable, isn't he?" He asks as a mockery of Stiles' earlier question about Lydia, only the librarian is being sincere. Derek looks up with an indescribable expression on his face before heading back to the guest room, without saying a word.

Deaton chuckles sadly, knowing that Stiles really has no idea about the effect he has on people. And Derek had no idea what he got himself into when he asked for The Slayer's help.

What a mess they've created for themselves.

* * *

**an: **a little nervous about this one, so comments would be gladly appreciated! /stares at her inbox, filled with apprehension.


	4. Virgin Thief

**a/n:** sorry for the delay :( change: instead of 5 ch, there's gonna be 6.

* * *

Part 4/6

**Virgin Thief**

* * *

The next morning Stiles feels a little tender. His neck still has fading bruises and it hurts to stretch. He sends a few texts to his friends, confirming that he's okay but needs a little more healing time and sleep and then proceeds to take a wonderful nap. He wakes up at five in the evening, finally feeling well-rested enough to actually do his homework. He's a smart guy, finds it easy to get A-s when he can actually _study_. Sadly, most nights he doesn't have time for that and his grades have suffered for it - all the more reason for his dad to occasionally ground him.

It's seven when he calls his dad to check if he should make dinner (heating up some frozen pizza, he's no cook) for two. When he finds out that the Sheriff probably won't be coming home for the night once more, he freezes, one hand hovering over the door of their oven.

"Did you find another body?"

"_Stiles._"

"Come on, dad."

"I'm not discussing this with you."

"_Dad_."

"Fine, yes, we found another one, a bus driver at the school this time. All the more reason for you to be grounded, buddy. Now stay at home, eat something and I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah, okay."

After he finishes the call, he quickly speed-dials Scott.

"What's up, how you feeling?"

"Fine, listen, I think the Alpha killed another one. Get everyone together and we're meeting at Deaton's in an hour. Last night's plan sucked, we need to come up with something better."

He hangs up after Scott agrees and then hesitates, fingers hovering over his phone screen. Finally he decides against calling Derek and calls Deaton instead.

"Hey, is Derek still there?" He quickly asks once the other has picked up.

"Yes, he's still here. I offered him a place to stay since you two are working together now."

"Offered him a place to stay? Where was he staying before?"

"... At his house."

Stiles pauses, thinking he must have missed something, "Not the one that burnt down?"

"The very same."

He clears his throat awkwardly, feeling a slight twinge in his chest at the thought of Derek sleeping in such a place. The guy is kind of an ass, but still a good person deep down (Stiles hopes his instincts are right on that one) and the house is probably a painful reminder of the family he no longer has.

"Okay, well, we're meeting up at your place in an hour. We need a new plan."

"Indeed. Fine, we'll be waiting."

And that's that.

Until Lydia calls.

* * *

"Do a favor for me, she says. I have a bad feeling about this, she says. Dear God, I gotta get a backbone when it comes to Lydia," Stiles grumbles to himself as he sneaks around the stranger's house, peeking in through windows, hoping to get a glimpse of Jackson or perhaps the apparent new cougar in town who in Lydia's mind is _too intense_ and _off_ and _Stiles should go over there and check up on Jackson_, even though the guy is the biggest asshole ever, turning down a study-date with Lydia for a study-date with their new _biology teacher_.

Like seriously, that girl has the worst taste in guys ever. An image of Derek forms in his mind and he concedes that fine, he might be just as bad.

Once he finally sees a woman suddenly entering the living room that he's currently peeping into, and admittedly a stunningly gorgeous woman at that, but doesn't see Jackson anywhere, he figures the _date_ must have ended and the guy is probably already on his way home and Lydia worried for nothing. But just in case, because he _trusts_ Lydia's intuition, damn it, he lurks around the garden, grimacing as he brushes past bushes, making obvious noises that indicate '_hey, someone's spying on you_'. It seems that the woman didn't hear or didn't care because she doesn't react, just continues walking through the house, putting out candles.

Apparently it was a very _romantic_ get-together between a teacher and a student.

Stiles stumbles a little, before reaching the next window and braces himself against the house, pulling his leg free of a plant that managed to twist itself around his leg. When he finally looks up, he frowns at the sight of her opening a door with a set of very questionable looking keys. The door opens to reveal a set of stairs leading down - a basement. The woman goes down and shuts the door behind her and even though this still doesn't scream anything supernatural, Stiles didn't like the look of those keys.

They looked like they might open cells or cages.

_Fine, Lydia._ Stiles guesses, he's going in. "Why do you always have to be right?" He whispers to himself, reaching out to test the window. Surprisingly, it slides open with ease, which is _always_ suspicious. No normal woman, living alone in a big house like this, would leave her windows unlocked. At least that's what Stiles thinks.

Just when he's about to _break and enter_ a stranger's home (apparently, without any breaking), his cellphone rings. Loudly.

Stiles spills out curses in whispers as he pulls back from the window, slides it closed quickly and crouches down, fumbling for his phone. He answers it without checking the caller ID, "Oh my god, what!?" He hopes his frustration and the stressfulness of his current situation is coming across despite his attempt to be as quiet as possible.

"Where the hell are you?"

Great. Derek's angry tone is the last thing Stiles needs right now.

"Listen, I don't have time to explain, isn't Lydia there as well?" He hears Derek talking to someone but can't make out any actual words and sighs as he waits.

"She's on her way. Now, where the hell. Are _you_."

"Don't cut off your sentences like that, it's annoying. And once Lydia is there, she'll explain. I'm about to save her loverboy. I think."

"What? Stiles-"

"Seriously, I gotta go." He hangs up and is sliding his phone back into his pockets when...

"Now look what we have here. A surprise treat," a female voice stresses out, sounding delighted.

Stupidly, instead of turning around and protecting himself, he _freezes _and promptly gets hit against the back of his head, passing out almost instantly.

* * *

He wakes up in a cell and the first thought that goes through his mind is, _I knew those keys looked fishy_.

The second thought is, _Ow_ because his head's killing him. He lifts himself up slowly, rubbing the lump on the back of his head, hissing at the pain as he takes in the dark room consisting of cells and _chains_.

"Is this some kind of a sexual torture chamber?" He wonders out loud and actually gets a response from the cell next to him.

"No, you idiot," And if Jackson's voice wasn't so panicky and squeaky, Stiles might have felt offended by the insult but since it was, Stiles doesn't. Instead he drags himself closer to the bars separating them, squinting in the darkness at the sitting figure. Jackson is holding his knees tightly to his chest, rocking back and forth, obviously traumatized.

"Hey," Stiles tries to go for a soothing tone, "What is this then? What did she do to you?"

"She's done nothing to _me_. Yet."

He frowns. _Oh-oh_. "To someone else then?"

"There were others," and wow, Jackson's whole head is shaking with enough force to make Stiles cringe, concerned, "Two guys. She-" He takes a deep breath and looks at Stiles, eyes glazed over with fear, "She did something to them, I think she... _mated_ with them and then she... she _ate_ them."

Stiles is kind of struck dumb at this point, "She wha?"

"She ate them, Stilinski!" And a little bit of Jackson's usual hate for him shows which is actually comforting, showing that the guy isn't fully numb with shock.

"Okay, okay," He says and thinks. "So what is she?"

"A bug," Jackson's voice echoes with disgust and he suddenly looks nauseated.

"Woah, what? Like an actual bug?"

"Yeah, a praying mantis, I think."

"Well, there's an image I didn't want in my head. A giant mantis. Great." He grows silent, drawing back from the bars and sitting in the middle of the cage, unsure of how to deal with this situation. If the mantis lady comes down and decides to eat Jackson before Stiles then there's nothing he can do about it. If she goes for Stiles, then he can at least try beating her to death, that's always Plan A.

"Why are you even here, Stilinski?" Well at least Jackson's looking even more aware now.

"Lydia sent me to save your ass. But I really wasn't expecting to go up against a big bug of all things." He pauses and then grins widely, "I bet that was a total turn-off, huh?" Jackson doesn't reply or question why Lydia would send Stiles or how Lydia even knew. He just glares fiercely and Stiles smirks, pleased.

The normality of the moment is ruined by their captor joining them downstairs, her fingers softly trailing on the handrail. She's a fox. Stiles shifts a little, uneasy at the utterly sensual expression on her face. And Jackson's already reduced back into a quivering mess. Lovely.

"Who should I have?" She asks in a serene voice, seductive gaze settled on Jackson. "The jock with the beautiful body I can't wait to taste? Or..." She turns to Stiles and pauses as she takes in the utterly bored look he's giving her. "You're not afraid," she says, confusion obvious in her tone.

Stiles enjoys her reaction to his disinterest and goes with it, "If this is your idea of entertainment for your house guests, then I'm never coming back here. Two points out of ten, I'm afraid. And the only reason you're getting those two is because I kind of like the dungeon-y decor of this place. Very BDSM." He nods, looking impressed as he glances around his surroundings. Hearing the clicking of high heels he looks back up at the woman now standing before his cell.

"How curious. Usually my donors would be shell-shocked with fear by now. Kind of like him," She adds, gesturing loosely at Jackson who is now hiding his face behind his hands, obviously knowing what's going to happen next and unwilling to see it again.

Stiles shrugs, face hardening, "I guess I just ain't buying your desperate attempt at acting like a cliche villain here."

She chuckles but manages to glare at the same time. "We'll see about that." The keys jingle as he unlocks his cell and pulls the door open. Stiles stands smoothly, ready for a confrontation.

What he isn't ready for, is _that_. In five seconds flat the beautiful teacher morphed herself into a big ol' mantis and Stiles screams shrilly. Because that shit is not okay. He totally wishes he could follow Jackson's lead and just curl up in a corner and _never look at that thing ever again._ As it is, he needs to go with Plan A. That's pretty much _all_ he has right now.

Faster than he expects, the creature's fore-limbs strike at him, trying to wrap around him. For a moment, his Slayer instincts work out great, he's dodging and blocking and tries his best to break those bug-legs that really should be delicate and scrunchy not hard as a rock but it's futile as the limbs finally wrap around him and pull him against the mantis. He's getting a bit scared now.

"Wait, really, you don't want to eat me or mate with me or whatever. I'm scrawny and sinewy and I probably smell like crap right now-" Oh God, the mantis' head up close is so disgusting, he feels his stomach curling. He kicks out with his legs and manages to hit the creature but it only causes her to stumble a bit backwards, not once loosening her grip on Stiles.

And then there's noise. First the thudding of steps over the mantis' hissing, the door getting slammed off its hinges and then- _snarling_? Both Stiles and the creature get thrown to the floor as a figure pummels into them. Stiles sees a glimpse of Derek's face, all wolfed out and everything and cheers in his head. _He's_ being rescued for once. This is nice, actually. Should happen more often, he thinks as he uses this opportunity to roll away from those limbs and to safety. _  
_

The mantis is strong, however. And resilient. Derek's claws cause her to bleed but she hisses angrily and throws the werewolf off and against the wall. Derek's up on his feet in no time, but so is Stiles. He's about to charge in and try to go for Plan A again, when he hears Scott shouting his name.

He looks up towards the stairs and there's the whole gang including Deaton, who appears to be fiddling with a recording device? But he gains focus as Scott throws a big machete down at him. He catches it by the handle easily and twirls it a little, angry at how easily this little bug had almost killed him. _Slayer-mode fully activated_.

Before he can start hacking and slashing, though, Deaton finally manages to get his device to work and suddenly everything is drowned out by a intolerable high-pitched noise that makes Derek shout as he presses against his ears and falls onto his knees. Stiles cringes but manages to ignore it otherwise, taking in how the mantis is losing her shit over the recording, flapping about unseeingly.

"Stiles, now!" Lydia shouts and Stiles doesn't need to be told twice.

He lets go and starts slicing himself a mantis salad. By the end, the creature's corpse doesn't even look like a mantis anymore and Stiles' front is covered in icky bug goo. He's not happy about that. But he is happy with the looks of surprise on his friends' faces when he turns around. Stiles likes surprising people, especially with his prowess as a fighter.

Not to mention, the look on Derek's face is the best one yet. Deaton turned off the recording a few minutes ago while Stiles was still having fun with the machete so the man is standing again, eyes wide and eyebrows arched as he stares at Stiles in what he thinks is awe. He wants it to be awe. He's going with awe.

He sighs and goes over to his former cell, grabbing the keys still hanging there and releasing Jackson, who is still frozen in his curled up position. Lydia rushes down and into the cell, willing to kneel on the grimy floor as she grabs at Jackson's hands, forcing the guy to finally _take a look_.

Jackson breathes out shakily as his eyes glance over the bug-goo on the floor, Stiles' machete and Lydia's sweet face and he finally collapses against her, cradling her in his arms. She's whispering things to him and Stiles feels a slight twinge in his heart at the obvious affection she has for the guy. He then turns to Derek.

"You okay, man? That thing didn't affect your hearing did it? What was it by the way?"

Derek just shakes his head, still staring at him although his eyebrows have taken their usual position in a frown.

Scott stumbles down the stairs as well and jumps on Stiles. He hugs his bro back just as fiercely, touched that the other didn't care about the goo that was now getting on his clothes.

"We were so scared we'd be too late and find you headless, dude!"

"You had no faith in me?"

Deaton and Allison join them as well and she gives him a sweet smile as an obvious appreciation of the fact that he's still breathing and relatively unharmed. Deaton pats him on the shoulder.

"When she arrived at my house today, Lydia told me of her suspicions about the new teacher. She saw Miss French turn her head 180 degrees like an insect yesterday, so we immediately started researching and I even called some of my old friends for information."

"_180 degrees!? 180 fucking- _Lydia!" Stiles turns around to yell at her, even angrier when she pretends not to hear him. "That's a fact you should fucking mention when you send me into the villain's den, ohmy_god_, stop ignoring me. Lydia. Lydia!"

She doesn't react, and Stiles swears he sees Jackson smirking at him over her shoulder. He seethes. Until a warm hand lands on the back of his neck turning him back towards Deaton. His face feels hot as he glances at Derek who refuses to meet his eyes. The hand stays even when his Watcher continues speaking and there's a warmth radiating inside him at the contact. He feels giddy all of a sudden.

"Lydia told me she thought she wasn't seeing right at first, but the more she kept replaying it in her head, the more plausible it seemed."

"So what was she? And what was that noise?" He asks and pointedly ignores how both Allison and Scott's gazes are kind of glued to the physical contact he and Derek are sharing. Allison's sucking in her lips the way she does when she's hiding a smile and Scott just looks wary, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Miss French was a She-Mantis, but also known as the Virgin Thief."

Stiles gapes, "First of all, _She-Mantis_? Like, that's actually the creature's name?" And when Deaton nods, he goes on, "And what do you mean, _Virgin Thief_?"

"_Dude_," Scott says, looking at him like he thinks Stiles is being an idiot, "She only goes after virgins?"

He blinks rapidly and then whips around, accidentally turning _into_ Derek's body and now the other's hand is on his left arm, his right side is all up against the man and he feels embarrassed but Derek is not moving away. At all. His hand is still firm on Stiles' now sadly covered skin and he just decides to ignore the implications of this for now.

"Jackson. You're a virgin?" He asks gleefully.

Lydia finally turns around, straightening and crossing her arms, head tilted. "Like you're one to talk?"

Stiles scoffs, "Me being a virgin is no surprise. Your loverboy over there, though? Has a street-cred going on. Apparently, he's _everybody's type_." Yes. He used air-quotes. Snappy air-quotes, not the lame ones.

He winces when a hand touches the back of his head. Derek's shuffled around so now he's practically hugging Stiles as he glares at the blood on his hands.

"You're injured."

Stiles scrunches up his nose, "Yeah, I know."

He gets a slap on the arm from Allison, surprisingly.

"Stiles! Why didn't you say anything?"

"It doesn't matter, I feel fine!"

A bit nauseated, but that could also be from the stink the _corpse_ is emanating.

Derek's gripping his arms and his forcing him to walk now, "You need to get home."

Stiles sighs, secretly enjoying the manhandling which is why he doesn't protest much.

"Won't argue with that, man. I'm beat."

* * *

A nice hot shower does wonders. Stiles is hurrying down the stairs, hair still damp and wearing freshly laundered clothes, a clean towel in one hand as he enjoys how refreshed and_awake_ he feels. He then takes in the slightly awkward group of people hanging out in his living room. Derek is leaning against the bookcase, hands in pockets and staring gloomily at the ground. Deaton's standing next to him, sipping tea from a cup, looking zen as usual. Allison and Scott have taken over the sofa, leaning their heads together, hands intertwined as they smile softly. Jackson stands up from the armchair where Lydia's been hovering over him, still occasionally talking in whispers, probably explaining what the hell is going on.

Stiles hands out the towel to Jackson who takes it and then hesitates before brushing past him, muttering a, "Thanks," as he goes.

His hand goes to his chest, right over his heart as he makes a proud face at the rest of the group, "I'm so touched."

Lydia huffs, exasperated. "Why can't you just be nice to him?"

"Ugh... because he's not nice to me? He's a dumbass, Lydia!"

"He just went through a terrible experience and you're mocking him!"

"Oh come on, I was there and I'm okay!"

"You're the Slayer, you're used to this! He isn't!" And with a pointy stab at his chest that actually _hurts_ she follows Jackson.

"Oh what, now you're going to shower with him?"

"Just shut up, Stiles!"

He's a bit distressed that Lydia actually yelled at him like that but he forces himself to get over it because there are more important things to worry about.

Stiles sighs and dares a peek at Derek. Their eyes meet and he clears his throat, looking away again.

"So. The Alpha. Any ideas?" He drops down onto the armchair Jackson occupied and stretches out his legs, making a soft noise at the back of his throat at the feeling. He feels rather than sees what's quickly becoming a familiar sensation of having Derek beside him. There's a gentle hand on the back of his head again and although he winces, he leans forward, away from the touch and turns to smile at him, "I'm okay. Really. I'm tougher than I look."

Derek looks odd, his face tense as if he's conflicted with something but finally nods. "Yeah, I'm beginning to see that." He takes a deep breath and looks elsewhere, returning to his spot near the bookcase. Stiles is perplexed at the other's demeanor but fortunately Deaton's always there to help when he needs a distraction. Slayer duty, _boom_.

"I've been wondering over a few details. Yesterday I asked Lydia to help me answer some of the questions I have about the murders. She got Danny to help and together we have managed to put the puzzle pieces together and I think we have a better understanding of Peter's motives now."

Stiles makes a face, head snapping back in confusion, "Motives? You mean, he isn't just going on a crazy killing spree because he's..." He slips in a fierce gesture with his hands, "_Crazy_?"

Scott speaks up, "We think he's getting revenge for the Hale fire."

Allison straightens up as well and now they're both out of their puppy-love haze, fully committed to the conversation.

"So all these people had something to do with that?"

"We think so," Allison says gently, glancing towards Derek. "Danny managed to pull out their criminal records and other stuff I have _no_ idea how he got his hands on and they fit."

"Okay, I'm gonna want to see those records myself, I think-"

"I brought them with me," Deaton gestures helpfully at the messenger bag he had dropped on the table. Stiles nods in thanks.

"But for now..." He looks at the werewolf, who's pointedly glaring at the floor, his discomfort at the subject transparent in the pinch of his eyebrows, his tense shoulders and his continued silence. "Derek?" Stiles wants to flinch at the other's harsh stare but resists. "Did you know about them? These people? That they caused the fire?"

He shifts on his feet a little, cracking his neck. "I- No. I didn't know about them." He pauses, glaring into space. "But I knew of- Of one, I think the one whose idea it was in the first place."

Stiles blinks in surprise, getting to his feet and taking a step closer to the man. "Who was it? Do you have a name?"

Derek hesitates before nodding, "Kate. Kate Argent."

Shocked silence follows. And all eyes except Derek's land on Allison. She laughs shakily, "No. That's not possible."

Derek's looking at all of them, eyes narrowed and before he can ask Stiles weakly introduces her again, "Derek, meet Allison _Argent_."

"What? You're a hunter's kid?"

"My family aren't hunters!"

"Kate is, believe me. And so is the rest of the family."

Allison shakes her head, rising up, eyes blurry with angry tears, "No. They wouldn't hide something like that from me. My _aunt_ wouldn't do that. She's a good person."

"It _would_ explain the arsenal they own?" Scott speaks tentatively. Allison turns on him, looking betrayed.

"I explained that to you, they are _not_ hunters!" She glares at every one of them before marching away, slamming the front door behind her. Scott looks at Stiles with wide eyes and he sighs, gesturing at the doorway.

"Go ahead, we'll talk later." He receives a grateful clap on his shoulder as his buddy rushes past him. And then there were three. Stiles takes in Deaton's calm manner.

"You knew about the Argents, didn't you?" He kind of doesn't have the energy to be anything but mildly disappointed at the moment. Deaton doesn't even look guilty as he answers.

"Yes, I knew. I also knew that Allison probably didn't. And it would have been best if her family had told her themselves."

Stiles rubs at his forehead, weary all of a sudden. "So. The Argents are the hunters. And Kate was behind the Hale fire. I thought they had a code, Deaton!"

"They do," Derek's voice is quiet but resonates with disgust. "Some of them just don't care. They enjoy the kill. The people in our house, there were..." He hesitates, swallowing heavily, "There were children. _Human_ children."

Stiles is repulsed. He feels nauseated at the thought of hunters, people who apparently have sworn to _protect_ people, doing something that horrible. Unforgivable.

"Where's Kate now?"

Derek shakes his head, "I don't know."

He laughs suddenly, "Man, this is so fucked up."

"What I was getting at earlier, is that I don't think Peter wants to do this alone. To be a stronger Alpha, to go against _hunters_ especially ones as skilled as the Argents, he is going to need help. He wants a pack." Deaton sends Derek a meaningful look and the other kind of freezes, before nodding slowly.

"If I call out to him as a Beta would call out to an Alpha... He'd probably show up and we wouldn't have to search for him," Derek agrees with the idea.

Stiles waves his hands, "Woah, so we're back to me trying to beat the guy down and Derek taking the last swipe with his man-paw? Because last time, that didn't work out quite well. The Alpha heals way too fast, we need something better."

"Lydia suggested fire."

Derek takes in a sharp breath and Stiles licks his lower lip nervously, "Wow. That's a low blow. So, what, like torches? Gasoline and matches?"

"Molotov cocktails," Lydia snaps.

Stiles turns to find her standing in the living room doorway, hair still dry - a good sign, arms crossed over her chest and lips pursed. She's obviously still a little miffed with him.

"Molotov cocktails? Where are we going to-"

"I know how to make them and the school basically has all we need to make a few."

"Wow. Um. Okay? So we throw the cocktails at him, he bursts into flames and then what? Won't he die?"

"Probably," Deaton admits.

Stiles faces Derek, touching the other's arm to get his attention. "You're okay with that?" Derek's gaze is intense, searching almost but Stiles doesn't look away, barely blinks. Finally the man nods.

"Right now, the most important thing is taking him down."

And out of the blue, he feels so much for this man. This _werewolf_. They've only just met and so far it's really only been physical attraction that's drawn Stiles to him but now it's sympathy and even further, _respect_. Because it seems like his instincts were spot on once again. Derek Hale really is a good person. Even if he tries to hide it, for some reason.

"So," he clears his throat and tries to hide the torrent of emotions. "Are we going to do this tonight?"

"I think it would be best, yes," Deaton agrees.

"Okay, then. Lydia and Jackson can head to the school first to make those cocktails, Deaton, you can go... home, I guess?"

"You don't want me to go with you?"

"No offense, I know you can handle vampires but with this guy? It's best if I have less people to worry about protecting."

Deaton nods in agreement, although he doesn't look very happy about it.

"How are Jackson and I getting into the school?"

"Take my keys, I'm not really supposed to have the key to the front entrance but what the principal doesn't know won't hurt him." Deaton takes them out of his pocket and moves over to Lydia who snatches them quickly and whips around.

"Come on, Jackson, we're leaving!" Next thing they hear is the door slamming again and then the thud of quick footsteps on the stairs. Jackson runs past the living room without glancing at anyone and follows Lydia outside.

"Call me after and let me know how things went."

Stiles promises that he will and Deaton leaves as well.

He awkwardly glances at Derek who's still as a statue, tense and uncomfortable.

And then there were two.

* * *

tbc.


End file.
